Movie 07. Sequel to Reunions. While the Autobots are dealing with their unplanned publicity, the Decepticons have slipped off the radar but are hardly inactive. Simmons may have the key to finding them. Meanwhile, Ironhide is feeling his age.

My apologies for the delay on this, and I hope
everyone will bear with me through the Prologue and Part One, I
revised them several times but I'm not sure how successful I was.
Part Two and Three are shaping up better, and as time goes on I will
be addressing the questions that were asked about events in Reunions,
so please stay tuned!

This fanfic is dedicated to Dvandom of the
Allspark boards for his story "Scars", and also to
Dragontail of the Allspark for general inspiration. Thank you both
for giving me TF concepts to think on.

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, they belong to Hasbro/TakaraTomy, these incarnations also property of Dreamworks and Paramount. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

Transformers:
Renewal

Prologue

Optimus
Prime looked around at the Autobots gathered in the Ark's "front"
room, including those on Teletraan-1's screen who were at Autobase
One. He had already spoken with Trailbreaker and Rattlelatch, both
now stationed in Washington D.C.. The rest were divided between the
bases as evenly as possible -- one way or another. By necessity
Perceptor was at Autobase continuing his experiments with the
Allspark shard. Ratchet had chosen to remain there until a proper med
bay could be rigged up in the Ark, spending his time working out the
best way to achieve that goal. Despite how the desert terrain suited
their natures better, Ironhide and Chromia had returned to Autobase.
Broadcast had command there wih Arcee as his second, Tracks wanted to
be closer to civilization, Thundercracker was still under Ratchet's
care, and Bluestreak was inclined to make sure the former Decepticon
kept his word.

Prowl,
Red Alert, Inferno, and Firestar had resumed their Cybertron command
hierarchy, while Moonracer served as medic for the crashed ship in
the meantime. With the help of Gears and Windcharger, Huffer was
slowly but surely working through the Ark's internal structures,
adapting anything that was irreversible.

Optimus
glanced into the camera transmitting his image to Autobase and met
the gaze of Broadcast, who was sitting on Tracks' shoulder to have a
higher perch above the larger mechs, and gave a small nod. The
communications officer and temporary base chief nodded back. "Today
I received the most recent survey from Agent Epps. The responses are
still mixed, so I would like to once again ask that you all maintain
your cover while away from base. To be honest, I think it will be
some time before our presence is significantly accepted to where we
could walk down a street without repercussions."

"There's
always gonna be somebody
who's afraid, Optimus," Broadcast pointed out. "We can't
wait forever for 'em to change their minds. I think it would help if
they could get to know us better. Not that I'm suggestin' a rally
downtown tomorrow, but it's somethin' to consider at some point."

"We
shall see," Prime replied. "Does anyone have concerns or
opinions on the matter?" He waited patiently. The smaller bots
on his side shrugged. Ratchet and Ironhide were unusually silent. If
he didn't know any better, Optimus would have thought they were both
looking at Prowl, waiting to see what he would say. Something
unspoken was going on amongst the three of them. He attributed it to
the tensions that had yet to cease amongst all
of the Autobots.

Tracks
cleared his vocalizer. "I agree with Broadcast. The humans will
not adjust unless they have reminders that we are here and will not
be leaving simply because some of them don't like us. Why miss
opportunities to mingle with those who do?"

"You
are lucky I am not there, Huffer," Tracks threatened, "Or
else you would not dare
say--"

"Quiet!"
Ironhide snapped, pushing the blue mech out of the camera's range.
The older mech settled right back into his stoic pose, ignoring the
fact that he had removed Broadcast as well.

Prowl
eased his way past Inferno to stand before Optimus. "Prime, if I
may -- I believe Tracks might have the right idea. Let us spend more
time among the humans. We can keep up our alternate appearances yet
also show them what we can do to help them. I would like to take my
team to a populated area where we could record how the humans
approach dangers and find out how receptive they would be to our
specialized assistance."

Optimus
gazed thoughtfully at Teletraan-1's console, then glanced at Ratchet
and Ironhide. The medic gave a quick scowl and turned away, busying
himself with checking one of his built-in monitors. Meanwhile,
Ironhide shrugged then replied, "I don't see why not. We are
only going to have to reveal ourselves whenever the Decepticons come
out of hiding."

All
to true,
Prime silently agreed. "Very well. Prowl, you may take your team
out. The rest of you may make excursions and observations, but be
careful. Until we are certain of the whereabouts of the Decepticons,
we will have to limit close contact so that no more of our allies are
put at risk."

"But
if the humans are to be your allies, are they not all
at risk?" The question came from someone behind Ratchet and
Ironhide. The two stepped aside, giving Thundercracker room -- and
attention he hadn't wanted so directly. He hunched his head down
between his patched shoulder armor, red optics shifting back and
forth. Ratchet had repaired him using what systems and exoskeletal
layouts were left after all the damage, as yet unable to restore the
Neutral to his former height. This Thundercracker had accepted for
the time being. "In that case, you might as well find closer
contacts, more friends who will advocate for you. During my recovery
I learned from the World Wide Web that humans in large numbers tend
to go with the popular opinion in order to remain in each other's
favor. Gain the highest number of followers, gain the popular
opinion. Those who don't approve of our presence will be outvoted."

"To
put it delicately," Gears scoffed. "Human social structure
is much more complex than that. What part of the 'Web' were you
studying?"

Ratchet
interrupted, "Gears, that is besides the point. We do
need more close allies who understand us. But we should go about it
carefully. Those we currently count among our friends were tested in
battle, showing they did not have ulterior motives. Not every human
will be like that -- nor be willing to face such a deciding
situation. There may come a time when select humans would try to gain
our trust in order to spy on our operations."

A
few pointed glances were turned toward Thundercracker. Ratchet
growled. "There were no extraneous implications there and you
all know
that!" He suspected it would hurt the Neutral's pride if he
stepped in front of him, so Ratchet resisted the urge to block those
glances. Thundercracker gave no sign that he had noticed them or was
perturbed by them.

Prime
spoke up before anyone could refute the medic's claim. "For now
my orders stand at observing. No
direct contact and avoid confrontations if anyone approaches you
about your symbol. Is this clear?" He looked at the bots around
him, then at the screen. Tracks was back in view and appeared to be
miffed. No one else offered comments. "Dismissed."

A
few salutes came from the Autobase crew, but mostly they wandered off
screen. The others at the Ark did the same, except for Prowl's team
who held their salutes until Prowl himself lowered his hand. "Sir,
shall we leave now or would you prefer for us to wait until there is
more progress on the Ark?"

"The
ship's condition is as good as it can be at this point. Plan out
which areas you are going to visit so we can track you from here.
Always work in pairs if not the whole team together. I want no one
operating alone."

"Yes,
Prime." Prowl nodded. "I will forward the data to you
within the hour."

"Take
your time. I would prefer if you wait until tomorrow to leave."

"Certainly."
Prowl smiled. "Thank you." He nodded to his team and they
filed out to return to perimeter duty. Optimus smiled as well. He was
glad to have Prowl present again. Chromia had turned down the offer
of first lieutenant, so he had asked Prowl to take the position. He
had humbly accepted. Chromia had also turned down Broadcast's
request, recommending Arcee instead with the suggestion of a younger
mech being more suitable. Prime was curious about it since Chromia
had always cited experience and age as a necessity. Yet it was
good to see some cooperation for a change.

Onslaught
tapped his fingers on the side of the angled monitor's screen,
glaring at the mech who glared right back at him. "You are
commanding our Earth-based operations. I still control our space
operations. I can not
send you any more resources, Motormaster. You have more than enough
at your disposal."

"I
need specific items to repair Dirge! While he has proven to be
expendable, it would be better if we keep him alive."

"You
have the Constructicons for things such as that."

"Hook
says he needs the proper material. All sustaining parts and equipment
are in reserve. You know
that!"

"Then
chose between Dirge and Thrust. Their parts are interchangeable."
Onslaught scowled in warning. "Waste no more of my time. We have
our own shortages to worry about here." He cut the connection
before Motormaster could make another demand. Then he angrily drummed
his fingers on the console.

Vortex
entered the comm room, having been standing in the doorway throughout
the conversation. "Shortages, eh?"

"Of
soldiers, or bodies, either one," Onslaught said, turning his
seat and steepling his hands. "I should not have agreed to send
down Skywarp and Thrust. We might have Astrotrain, but they have
Tidal Wave. An uneven distribution of forces, given the odds we could
be facing." He finished sharply, "I expect any
number of Autobots could arrive during this crucial period."

Vortex
erased what he had been about to say and nodded a little too
enthusiastically. "So, why are we waiting for Starscream?"

Onslaught
worked the battle mask that covered his mouth, debating if he wanted
to take his ire out on Vortex or not. He decided it would do no
good, since the one he truly wanted to give a piece of his mind towas
Starscream. "We are and we are not. Right now we observe the
humans and see if they reject the Autobots. If they do not, we give
them reason to. At the same time, it fits with Starscream's orders to
sit around waiting for his useless shell to return. Yet, if Lord
Megatron is successfully recovered, we leave for our own facility
elsewhere to restore him. Then
we see if he wants us to even bother with this pathetically primitive
planet. The humans have already damaged their planet beyond repair.
Another century and it would be a wasteland for us. Why squander our
time?"

"Unless
Megatron says otherwise," Vortex ventured.

"Yes.
I will await contact from Soundwave. Motormaster and his ilk are only
good for one thing: ruining the reputation of the Autobots. That will
be Phase Five."

"But
Motormaster is equally as loyal to Megatron as we are."

"He
also likes to give orders. I am sure he is convinced he has Soundwave
under his control. Fool. He deserves to remain with Starscream."

Vortex
knew his commander's hatred for all beings tactically inferior was on
at full charge, and he decided to not fuel it further. "In
short, we await Megatron."

"Yes."

Ratchet
stirred from contemplation of a new and improved medical bay when his
internal comm alerted him to an incoming secure video feed from
Washington D.C.. He used a cable to hook his communicator into the
computer. "Receiving."

Rattlelatch's
face resolved out of the initial static. "Got some news on the
preliminary study of the 'bug'. It's a Decepticon that operates
partly by remote control and partly imbued with a tiny spark of its
own. It is designated as Bombshell.
I found plant residue and dirt on it that doesn't match Autobase's
local flora or soil. But they do match..." He paused for a
second. "...Those by where Will lives."

"But
it was here before Will came to the base." Ratchet stroked his
tusks in thought, then realized what Rattlelatch was getting at. "It
came in with someone else."

The
smaller mech nodded. "It's very likely it was planted on
Ironhide. Given the timestamps on the data, I would say it was
Ratbat's doing."

Ratchet
frowned. "Could that be the actual reason they had targeted
Will? It would have been all too easy to engage Ironhide while he was
distracted protecting Will, and use him as transport for the
insect-'Con. Do not
tell Ironhide your conclusion," he warned. "I will handle
that part. Did you extract the data this Bombshell collected?"

"Yes.
Most of what it downloaded we already know they used. My deployment
to D.C., the East Oakland team, the key, Trailbreaker's vehicle form
and political affiliation. They obviously already knew the Ark's
location."

"Not
that it was difficult to miss since they knew what to look for."
Ratchet then rumbled unintelligibly before continuing, "Couldn't
be helped. Did you get anything from
our guest?"

"I
tried." Rattlelatch held the container holding Bombshell to his
camera and shook it. "Bugger's got an amazing firewall. I
haven't been able to crack it yet. Definitely Soundwave's work."

"Heh,
don't have to tell me. I ran across some of his toys back on
Cybertron. I'm not taking any risks."

"Good.
Find out anything else you can within those boundaries. Remember, not
a word of this to Ironhide."

"Don't
worry. He doesn't ever call me out of the blue so there's little
chance I'll slip. I'll report in as soon as I find out something
interesting." After another nod from the medic, Rattlelatch
disconnected. He then glanced down at the human seated cross-legged
by his foot and smirked. "Should we see if we have another
assignment, or should we play hooky and try to crack another layer on
this guy?" He casually tossed the container up, caught it, then
rolled it between his hands a few times before tossing it up again.

Bombshell
cursed both the Autobot and his government-assigned human partner.

Moments
later Ratchet heard the sound of a mis-aligned leg joint just before
Ironhide's horned head cleared the med bay entrance. For a second he
feared his conversation had been overheard, but one look at
Ironhide's face put the fear to rest; he wore a familiar look of
resignation about the impediment to his leg. Ratchet calmly turned
and stood to greet his patient, tools unfolding from his arm
casements. Ironhide seated himself on a table without a word, leaning
back on his hands while he stretched his legs out. He motioned with
his head to his right leg, then lowered his gaze to the floor on his
left.

Ratchet
accepted that nothing had been heard and put it out of his processor
as he examined the warrior's upper leg and hip. "Severely
painful, or catching on a cable again?" Ironhide grunted, which
was the repsonse Ratchet had expected. "With some of the
supplies I recovered from the Ark, I might be able to combine parts
with human tech to finally replace the whole thing."

Ironhide
grunted more quietly, which made Ratchet pause and look at his face,
but he spoke before the medic could comment. "Ratchet, am I oldenough?"
His voice was particularly gruff.

Ratchet
raised one half of his brow plating. "Old enough for what? You
are older than dirt -- according to the history of some organic
planets."

Ironhide
didn't answer, his gaze still on the floor. He exhaled heavily
through his intakes.

Ratchet
took a careful visual scan of him, his expression turning to concern.
"Ironhide, is something wrong?"

The other mech scowled and seemed to
draw into himself, his optics dimming. Ratchet considered Ironhide's
question and compared it to recent events. In the months since the
Ark crash there had been several operations to keep the
non-publicized bots under cover. It hadn't been easy, but they had
all been patient, and things had surprisingly quieted down. The
humans seemed to be looking to their governments to decide for them.
There had been several attempts by UFO enthusiasts to stake out the
Ark. An improved misdirection field at both bases had cut down the
number of visitors and intervention by the division lead by Robert
Epps helped with the rest. While Ratchet didn't mind more contact
with humans, he understood that some things needed to be protected
for the time being.

He
knew Ironhide felt much the same, so he doubted the human element was
bothering him. Or perhaps it was, in a different way than potential
invaders. Knowing how short the lives of his human friends were
compared to his own might have him feel age-conscious.

Ratchet
paused his thought process and looked at the warrior again.
Ironhide's face was still, with no trace of annoyance at the delay to
the repairs or at the medic's scrutiny. He also showed no indication
of answering Ratchet's question.

The
medic himself grunted and went back to work, grumbling, "I have
ways of making patients talk, you know." When no retort came, he
tucked away the cable he had adjusted and placed his hands on the
edge of the table, optics searching the warrior's visage again.
Ironhide finally met his gaze and stared back passively. Ratchet
felt an alarm go off in his processor. With a warning in his tone,
he said, "Ironhide..."
He leaned forward until he was an inch from the other mech's face.
"I will
tell Chromia."

"She
already knows."

Ratchet
drew back slightly. "So this involves both of you?"

"Ratchet."

"Yes?"

"I
asked you a question. I did not inquire to receive criticisms. I want
your feedback as a professional, not as my friend."

Ratchet
was taken aback but then he nodded. "My first question that
followed yours still stands. I need to know what context you wish to
define your age by."

"Am
I old enough to merge my spark with Chromia's?"

Ratchet
had to fight to contain his shock. Join,
merge,
and even combine
meant very different things in regard to sparks. The medic cleared
his vocalizer and moved to the end of the table, using the
three-dimensional light projector to bring up the profile on
Ironhide's spark. He quickly scanned the other mech to have an
updated image. "This is your spark as it stands now." A
sphere of pulsating blue energy rose from the projector, marred by
jagged lines and what looked like small punctures, all highlighted in
green. "This is my most recent scan of Chromia's." Another
blue sphere rose up, shifting the other to the side. It, too, was
marked by green. Ratchet had the computer overlay them. Overlapping
marks shown in a brighter green, while several gaps blinked red.

"I
regret to tell you that you literally do not have a whole spark
between you."

He
heard Ironhide utter a quiet sound that he had never heard the mech
make before. A sob.

To Be Continued

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